Release Blitz: A Leap of Faith by Mel Gough

 

Don't miss today's release blitz for historical romance, A Leap of Faith from author Mel Gough, Red Dog Press and Gay Book Promotions!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: A Leap of Faith

Author: Mel Gough

Publisher: Red Dog Press

Cover Artist: Red Dog Press

Release Date: February 12, 2021

Genre: Historical MM romance

Trope: Forbidden love

Themes: Struggle with societal norms

Heat Rating: 3 flames   

Length: 77 500  words

It is a standalone story.

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Buy Links

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |  Amazon UK 

 

An evocative tale of love, fear and duty, set against the backdrop of the nineteen fifties, with the emergence of apartheid in South Africa and the criminal nature of homosexuality in the UK.

  

 Blurb

​South Africa, 1953 – Father Daniel Blakemore is happy on his missionary secondment in a small, rural Providence Hospital on the Eastern Cape. Being away from England makes it easier for him to conceal his homosexuality – a secret that would destroy everything he’s ever worked for.

But when Doctor Eddie Raleigh takes up his new position at Providence, the two men are instantly drawn to one another. Their liaison represents both Daniel’s deepest desire and his worst nightmare. If the archdeacon in London learns of his true nature, Daniel’s life in the church will be over.

Broken-hearted, Daniel breaks things off with Eddie. And to get away from his sorrows, he leaves his beloved missionary work behind, and returns to Stepney.

Will time and distance alleviate Daniel’s pain, or will happiness be forever elusive? Or will love, finally, find a way?



Excerpt

Chapter 1

Doctor Eddie Raleigh and I met for the first time on an unusually hot day in January. At the time, my head was inside the end of a VW bus, and my arms and shirt were covered in motor oil. The bus, which doubled as our ambulance, had sat uselessly in the hospital’s courtyard for weeks, and I was determined to do something about it.

“I can’t see what the problem is.” I wiped my brow with an oily sleeve. “That bolt’s tight, but this pipe is still dripping… Anton, hand me the other wrench?”

Without taking my eyes off the engine, I stretched out a hand in the direction of the half a dozen boys who were watching my futile attempt at vehicle repairs with great interest and many unhelpful comments. When the tool wasn’t forthcoming, I glanced up. All I could see of the boys were their narrow backs, clad in an array of cast-off shirts. They were looking at something I couldn’t see.

I straightened, narrowly missing cracking my head on the open engine hatch.

A stranger stood at the front of the bus, holding a small leather suitcase in one hand and a white trilby hat in the other. He was tall and slender, with a shock of reddish hair that brushed the collar of his tailored shirt. He was in shirtsleeves; a summer coat hung in limp folds over the suitcase. He gave an impression of the slightly rumpled elegance seen in the well-to-do traveller.

The boys remained still as salt pillars, so I took charge. “Hello there. Can we help?”

He approached, looking relieved about the friendly break of the stand-off. Close up, a fine spray of freckles dotting his nose and cheeks captured my attention. He had high cheekbones, and laughter lines around the eyes. His jade-green gaze gave me a sudden jolt, like I’d missed a step while hurrying down a flight of stairs. He smiled, his face lighting up with an openness that was rare and refreshing. The way his mouth quirked at one corner made my cheeks burn.

“Do you need assistance?” I attributed the uncharacteristic edge in my voice to the forward way his gaze still held mine fast. Instantly, anxiety washed over me. Did he think me rude? But his smile was unwavering.

“I’m Edward Raleigh.” His voice was low and pleasant. “The new doctor.” He extended his hand. At the last moment I remembered the engine grease on my fingers. I grimaced, holding my arm rigidly by my side.

“You don’t want to get grease all over you.” In lieu of a handshake I put all the warmth I had into the words. “How do you do. I’m Father Daniel Blakemore. Welcome to Providence Hospital, Doctor Raleigh. We’re very glad to have you on board.”

“It’s good to be here at last.” From his tone, it wasn’t difficult to deduce the relief of a journey finally completed. He smiled that bright smile again. “And to be so promptly appreciated.”

“You’ll want to see Mr Hogarth.” That was the hospital’s director and head surgeon. I sized up the boys. “Anton, take Doctor Raleigh to the administrative offices.”

“Thank you, Father.” Raleigh’s smile was just for me this time. Until he turned to Anton, at least. “Ready when you are.”

The boy looked proud to be entrusted with this important task. “This way.” He set off towards the hospital, his back straight, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. I tried to see the white, two-storey building with its gabled red roof through the eyes of the elegant doctor. Hopefully, Raleigh would be too busy digesting his unfamiliar surroundings to notice the cracks in the walls and the peeling paint.

“Clinic’s just finished for the day.” Anton’s voice carried from halfway across the deserted courtyard. He seemed to be responding to a question from Raleigh. “Don’t get used to the quiet. It doesn’t last.”

Something in the doctor’s response made Anton grin. He hurried to hold the door to the Casualty department and let Raleigh precede him. A smile stole onto my face. Despite his elegance, I had an inkling that Raleigh would fit right in.

“The new doctor is very tall.”

I turned my attention to the boys still crowding around the bus. The speaker, a small, wiry lad of about ten, grinned at me.

I chuckled. “So he is.” Turning back to the engine with its intractable tangle of wires and pipes, I gave a sigh. “Gentlemen, back to it. Someone hand me the flat-blade screwdriver, please.”

About the Author

Mel Gough has self-published eight contemporary and historical romance novels and novellas. She was shortlisted for the inaugural Selfies Award with her romantic suspense novel He is Mine. A Leap of Faith was longlisted for the Bridport Award 2019 and shortlisted for the First Novel Award in the same year. Mel lives in London.  

 

Social Media Links

Website: Red Dog Press   Mel Gough

  Facebook: Red Dog Press   Mel Gough 

 Twitter: @reddogtweets  @melgough_writer

Instagram: @red_dog_press  @melgoughwriter

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Hosted by Gay Book Promotions

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Blog Tour + Giveaway: The Boy Who Chased After His Shadow (Broom Closet Stories #3) by Jeff Jacobson

Author Jeff Jacobson and Other Worlds Ink host today's tour stop for queer YA, The Boy Who Chased After His Shadow (Broom Closet Stories #3)! Read more and enter in the $25 Amazon gift card giveaway!

Jeff Jacobson has a new queer YA urban fantasy romance out, Broom Closet Stories book 3: "The Boy Who Chased After His Shadow." And there's a giveaway!

What If an Evil Witch Was Controlling Your Thoughts Without You Knowing?

Soon after being whisked away to Seattle to live with an aunt and uncle he barely knew, Charlie Creevey learned that he hailed from a family of witches. After settling into this unfamiliar life, his feelings toward his new friend Diego Ramirez began to grow into something more serious. And if that wasn’t enough, he failed to stop the nefarious witch Grace and her cohort from using the dreaded deathcraft and killing his mentor Malcolm.

In Book 3 of this riveting series, Charlie discovers that Grace has gone into hiding and is acting behind the scenes. Able to influence minds in ways that were previously unheard of in the witching world, Grace compels Charlie to unwittingly do things like taking on the bullies at Puget Academy and lying to his family. The more Charlie believes he is acting of his own accord, the more Grace secretly rebuilds her strength and plots her comeback.

Will Charlie ever be able to overcome Grace and her coven? Or is Charlie destined to live life as a gay teen witch, shrouded by the evil veil of the deathcraft? And can he ever share his secret with Diego—or will he have to keep his identity as a witch hidden in the broom closet forever? Find out in The Boy Who Chased After His Shadow.

Amazon US | Amazon UK | Amazon CAN

About the Series:

High school life as a gay teenage witch is never easy. Ask Charlie Creevey, the boy who’s busy developing his witchcraft abilities while navigating romance with Diego Ramirez. Forget about focusing on schoolwork, too, thanks to an evil witch and her ilk who will stop at nothing to destroy everyone around them, including Charlie and his family, for power. All he wants is some normalcy... but will Charlie ever be able to share who he really is? Or must everything remain a secret?

From paranormal adventures and a whirlwind romance, to battling evil witches and a gripping conclusion, enjoy all the thrills and excitement, in the supernatural world of the Broom Closet Stories.

---

Giveaway

Jeff is giving away a $25 Amazon gift card to one lucky winner:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Direct Link: http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/b60e8d47169/?

---

Excerpt

With a shrug, Diego set the tray down on the coffee table and sat down next to Charlie, who leaned into the taller boy’s warmth.

“That,” said Diego, looking about in wonder as he draped his arm over Charlie’s shoulder, “was epic. That was the most epic party I’ve ever been to.”

Amos came walking into the living room and pushed on Randall’s arm, indicating that he was ready to be petted.

“Are you glad they’re all gone, boy?” asked Charlie’s uncle. In reply, Amos’s tail thumped the floor, and the groan of pleasure that escaped his throat seemed answer enough as he leaned into Randall’s hand.

“I’m glad you liked it, Diego,” said Beverly. She held a mug of tea in her hand. The expression on her face seemed to be a mix of wistfulness and pleasure—or maybe something else. Charlie often couldn’t tell with Beverly.

“I thought that the trick-or-treaters would never end,” said Randall, shaking his head. “I worried we’d run out of candy. Just when you thought it was over—”

Amos barked once, sharp, then ran over to the north-facing wall, looking up at the small picture window high up near the ceiling, wagging his tail.

A yellow cat sat on a bare tree branch, peering down at the people in the living room as if holding court.

“Holy feline, that scared the crap out of me!” shouted Diego, clutching his chest.

Charlie snuck a glance at his aunt and raised his eyebrows. Was that a cat from the network? Or just some stray prowling around on the trees out front?

The slight shrug of her shoulders and the way she narrowed her eyes told Charlie she didn’t know.

The doorbell rang.

Amos barked again, then ran over to the front door. Randall and Diego jumped.

“I’m gonna have a heart attack!” Diego declared.

Charlie and Beverly looked first at the front door, then back at each other.

“Who the hell could that be?” asked Randall, starting to stand up. “Even the older kids should be done for the night.”

“Let me get it,” said Beverly, placing her hand on her husband’s knee before coming to her feet. Charlie knew it was a command, not a suggestion. Upon her secretive glance to him, he shrugged off Diego’s arm and followed his aunt to the foyer.

Two small figures stood on the front stoop, bathed in the yellow cone of light from the lamp above the door. They were dressed as ghosts, with pure white sheets stretched over their small bodies, ghoulish eye and mouth holes drawn in overly large ovals. Red droplets of paint, to mimic blood spatter, speckled their heads and upper bodies. As an added touch of the grotesque, twin ropes with frayed ends encircled their tiny necks.

Charlie’s skin prickled.

“Trick or treat!” cried the figure on the right, a boy’s voice. He couldn’t be older than five or six. The figure next to him, only an inch or two taller, stayed silent but held out an empty, plastic jack-o’-lantern. There was something demanding and greedy in its gesture.

“Oh,” said Beverly. “Hello. Isn’t it a little late for you to be out?” She craned her neck, and Charlie guessed she was looking for an adult standing beyond the front gate. The sidewalk appeared empty. “By yourselves?”

“No,” stomped the figure on the left. A girl. “We don’t have a curfew.”

Charlie watched as his aunt’s eyes widened before softening. “Well, I see. Charlie, do you think we have any leftover candy?”

“We won’t eat it. We just—” said the smaller boy.

The girl elbowed him so sharply that the boy teetered backwards. “Ow!” he shouted.

Charlie reached out and grabbed the bony shoulders of the ghost boy before he could topple off the porch, releasing his grip only when he was steady on his feet again.

“You’re not going to eat it?” asked Beverly.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Anyway, about that candy,” demanded the girl.

Something isn’t right about this, Charlie thought. But it was Halloween, right? You were supposed to give out candy to anyone who came by. Wasn’t that the unwritten rule?

He glanced up at the upper branches of the trees but could see no yellow cat.

“Charlie, wait here while I check to see if we have anything left,” said his aunt, turning around and walking back into the house.

Charlie, guessing that his aunt was up to something besides looking for leftover candy, did as he was told.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked the small figures.

The two ghosts stood still and remained silent, their black, oval eyes staring up at him—more chills over his skin. There was something downright frightening about these two little kids, standing side by side in their macabre costumes, saying nothing.

A strong gust of wind blew overhead, and the massive trees surrounding the house bowed and straightened, bowed and straightened. A car door slammed somewhere down the street, and he heard what sounded like a group of teenagers laughing and shouting.

“We just had a really big party,” he said. “Lots of people. Lots of kids.”

More awkward silence.

Charlie summoned a Word and cast it outward, double-checking that the extra-strong wards his aunt set to run the perimeter of their property were still intact.

His Word bounced back to him, healthy and intact. Nothing breached.

Now that he thought about it, that was silly. Charlie could tell that these two little kids were neither witches nor Echoes. Plus, if they had broken through the wards, Beverly wouldn’t have left him alone with them on the porch.

Then why were the hairs on the back of his neck static with electricity?

“Here we are!” said his aunt, stepping next to him on the porch. She held a small, clay bowl in her hand. In the bowl sat three ridiculously fat chocolate bars, wrapped in shiny black paper and tied with ornate orange ribbon. They definitely did not come from the trick-or-treaters’ stash they’d been using; he’d never seen them before.

“Only take one each, now,” said his aunt, leaning over and holding the bowl down at eye level with the children.

---

Author Bio

Jeff Jacobson was born and raised in Seattle and graduated in 1991 from the University of Puget Sound in Tacoma, Wash., with a degree in Asian studies and a minor in Chinese language (Mandarin). He works both as a coach and a trainer of coaches, and is passionate about how evolved leadership can help transform organizations, their clients, and even the world.

The Broom Closet Series emerged from a challenge/dare after Jeff Jacobson criticized other books for how they depicted witches ("Windswept hair… spells, always in Latin…" no, no, no). The friend he made these comments to called him out on his critique, noting that the authors wrote their books, not Jacobson's. Could he write his own witchy books? In 2008, Jacobson decided to find out.

Already top sellers on Amazon, The Boy Who Couldn't Fly Straight and The Boy Who Couldn't Fly Home chart teenager Charlie Creevey's double coming out – as a young gay man, and as a witch. He lands in the hamlet of West Seattle and becomes part of the local coven, which he needs in order to fight off Grace, a murderous villain who's killing teens to fuel her power and control. Jacobson picks up the thread yet again in The Boy Who Chased After His Shadow as Charlie's feelings for classmate Diego Ramirez deepen, and Grace's pitiless murders terrify and threaten the community.

Author Website: http://www.jeffjacobsonworld.com

Author Facebook (Personal): https://www.facebook.com/jeff.jacobson.528

Author Facebook (Author Page): https://www.facebook.com/theboywhocouldntflystraight

Author Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/theboywhocouldntflystraight/

Author Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Jeff-Jacobson/e/B00FI0QO02/

Release Blitz + Giveaway: The Rose Man by Cheryl Dragon

Author Cheryl Dragon and Pride Publishing visit with The Rose Man release blitz! Read more and enter in the giveaway to win a $20 Amazon gift card and a Cheryl Dragon eBook!

The Rose Man Cheryl Dragon

General Release Date: 9th February 2021

Word Count:  35,798
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 148
Genres: CRIME AND MYSTERY, EROTIC ROMANCE, GAY, GLBTQI, THRILLERS AND SUSPENSE, VALENTINES

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Book Description

The Rose Man knows where his targets live, work and play…

One dead body.

Two missing men.

Three red roses…

So far…

Deputy Ben Grover is the only gay man in the sheriff’s department and gay men seem to be the target of a stalker who leaves a rose on their windshield. With missing persons involved, the sheriff welcomes the help of the FBI, but Ben isn’t so thrilled to be working with Agent Ross Burns, his high school ex.

Ross had aspirations that took him far from the small town while Ben had obligations that kept him back. But they won’t let their scorching past or the feelings that blaze into passion now get in the way of catching a killer.

Both are convinced there are more rose recipients out there—The Rose Man seems to be counting down to Valentine’s Day and roses tend to come by the dozen…

Excerpt

Rural Kentucky had its share of crime, but Deputy Ben Grover never got excited, even when something sounded like a good case. Normally it ended up being something simple, like a family dispute or misunderstanding. Family didn’t snitch and almost everyone was related in some distant way or through marriage.

Sheriff Larry, as he was known to everyone, liked things nice and quiet. His reelection signs were all over town with a picture of Larry in case anyone didn’t know who he was. A portly guy in his late fifties with a big smile, everyone liked Sheriff Larry, and Larry liked the calm and boring county.

The country life was good. Ben enjoyed knowing the people and being able to drive around his county blindfolded if he had to. Still, Ben longed for a bit more excitement, but his life was here. The radio in his squad car demanded his attention.

He grabbed the handset and pressed the button. “Grover here.”

“Respond to a report of a dead body behind the Good Ole Boy Inn. All yours,” said dispatch.

“Responding,” Ben replied. He flipped on the lights for a bit of fun. The sheriff didn’t respond unless it was high profile and the Good Ole Boy Inn was a gay dive bar just inside their jurisdiction. It drew men on the downlow from Lexington to Frankfurt and all the surrounding areas.

Three gay men had been reported missing in the last week. Of course, the families wouldn’t admit to them being gay, but interviews with coworkers and neighbors had confirmed it. But there was no sign of foul play, no blood, no signs of a struggle and no calls for ransom. Sheriff Larry was convinced they’d all gone on some gay camping trip and forgot to call off work…

The only real link between them so far was the red roses. Each had commented, before they went missing, to a friend or coworker about a red rose being left on their windshield at work, at home, or both…. Not much of a clue. If it was just one guy, it’d be weird, but not a major problem. Just a potential stalker they needed to identify and have a little chat with. Three guys with the rose man stalking them, however, was a big signal to Ben that someone out there was targeting gay men.

Some of the men didn’t live within the jurisdiction, so Larry was talking to other law enforcement, which complicated matters. Ben knew it wasn’t a big priority—gay men missing triggered Deliverance jokes or brought up John Wayne Gacy analogies.

The reality was that men going missing wasn’t the big news story or priority that kids or women were. Men wanted to believe they were all tough and that only weak and vulnerable people needed that sort of help. Plus, with no body, there was no proof of any crime. No blood at any scene and no witness to a struggle left them with nothing—it could just be a case of guys going out of town at the same time. Vacation, family emergency or whatever… To make it more challenging, some of the men worked and some didn’t.

Ben turned off down the dirt path that wasn’t well marked as any sort of driveway or street—he’d been to that gay dive bar plenty in his life. People had to know their way around the backwoods to find it. He’d been coming here since he was fourteen.

Ben parked his car along the side of the bar. The surroundings were was all dirt and sparse grass until he hit the woods behind the place. The bar itself was a dingy one-floor glorified shack with a wraparound porch. Underage teens were kept to the porch unless they had a decent fake ID. Luckily it was only noon and the bar wasn’t officially open yet.

The owner, Charlie Mullins, sat on the back porch in a rocking chair. He was pushing sixty and the eternal hippie. Rumor had it plenty of weed was grown in the woods around the bar. He had to support the business somehow. Inside, the drinks were cheap but the décor was often updated. Huge flatscreens hung around the bar, pool tables and dart boards were along the side and there were dark corners, as well as a disco ball over the smallish dance floor.

Ben had to be careful how much he shared with Charlie. He wasn’t just an older gay guy and friend now—Charlie was part of a case, and Ben had to keep his professional boundaries clear for the sake of the victims. To him, Charlie wasn’t a suspect, but what he knew might crack the case. Every gay guy who walked in here trusted Charlie with his life.

“Ben, thank God it’s you.” Charlie waved and walked down from the porch. “Drove up for a delivery and saw this rolled-up tarp. I got close enough to check if it was garbage and I saw enough of a body to call Sheriff Larry.”

“Garbage?” Ben asked.

“Sometimes we get the skinheads setting a fire or dumping scrap parts after they butchered something. Sometimes it’s trash, but they usually set it on fire. I never expected a dead body.”

“We’ll get the CSI group out here.” Ben took initial pics with his cell phone and sent the text for backup. A piece of paper was taped to the plastic trash bag.

“I didn’t touch nothing,” Charlie said.

“Good call. Ya’ll might need to close down for a night or two,” Ben warned.

“Come on, you know that’d cause a panic,” Charlie said.

“Let’s just see. We’ll try to keep things quiet, but not much happens around here. People start asking questions whenever they hear a siren or see flashing lights.” Ben took a few more pics with his cell phone, put on gloves and gently peeled the tape off so he could see the piece of paper. It was neon pink, hard to miss once the outer layer of plastic was pulled back.

“It’s a flyer for the Valentine’s dance at the community center.” Ben shook his head at the name. Cupid’s Ball.

Charlie nodded. “Something scribbled on the back.”

Ben flipped it over.

What comes by the dozen and sells out fast on Valentine’s Day? I promise not to take out more than a dozen men…we might not be welcome at the ball but you should come and see if there are any of them left…

Buy Links

Choose Your Store
First For Romance

About the Author

Cheryl Dragon

A lover of unusual things, Cheryl Dragon enjoys writing unique stories with sinfully hot erotic romance. She loves cats, coffee and book signings where she can meet her fans. Cheryl lives in the Chicagoland area.

For more about Cheryl, follow her on Facebook, Twitter or visit her website.

Giveaway

Enter to win a $20.00 Amazon Gift Card and a FREE Cheryl Dragon romance book!

Cheryl Dragon's The Rose Man Giveaway

CHERYL DRAGON IS GIVING AWAY A $20.00 AMAZON GIFT CARD TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN AND GRAB YOUR FREE CHERYL DRAGON ROMANCE BOOK! Notice: This competition ends on 23rd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.

Release Blitz + Giveaway: Secretly Mine (Offbeat Shifters #1) by Colette Davison

 

Author Colette Davison and Gay Book Promotions celebrate new release, Secretly Mine (Offbeat Shifters #1)! Read more about the unusual shifters and enter in the $40 Amazon gift card giveaway!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: Secretly Mine (Offbeat Shifters Book 1)

Author: Colette Davison

Publisher: Independently Published

Cover Artist: Colette Davison

Release Date: February 9, 2021

 Genre/s: Supernatural romance

Trope/s: shifters, mpreg setting but there isn’t pregnancy or childbirth in the books, age-gap, pop-stars, forbidden romance (bodyguard and client), hidden relationship

Themes: The price of fame, treatment of omegas in the pop industry 

Heat Rating:  3 flames

Length:  92 000 words

Book 1 could be read as standalone. 

Add on Goodreads 

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Universal Link  |  Amazon US  |   Amazon UK 

 

I’m being paid to spend a month on tour with Jesse Steele, to keep him safe and protect his image. Simple.

Blurb

The first rule of being a bodyguard is never get involved with your client. It should have been easy to follow, but Jesse Steele is a beautiful, kind omega, who’s far more down to earth than a pop star has any right to be.

Someone discovering our tryst becomes the least of our worries when it becomes clear Jesse has a stalker.

Can I love Jesse and protect him, or will my emotions cloud my judgement and put him in danger?

Secretly Mine is an m/m paranormal romance with a protective tiger shifter, a sweet monkey shifter, lots of cuddles, secret kisses, and piggy back rides. Whilst it is set in an alternate universe where omegas give birth, there are no pregnancy or birth scenes in this book.

Trigger warning for mentions of infertility.



Excerpt

There was always a moment when I willed my body to shift that I regretted it. It was excruciating. For the few seconds it took for the transformation to take place, I saw nothing but white-hot fire. Felt nothing but searing heat as every molecule in my body rearranged itself. I heard nothing but my own pitiful sobs. Smelt nothing.

Then it was over, and I was considerably smaller and buried in a pile of my own clothes. The advantage of shifting to a smaller form was that I didn’t need to undress first. Unlike Isaac. He was still in his human form, staring down at me. I danced from foot to foot, impatiently chittering at him. I was desperate to climb up into the trees and swing from branch to branch.

“Turn around,” he said.

Rather than turning around, I put my tiny hands over my large eyes. I was good and didn’t peek as Isaac undressed, even though it was tempting. While he shifted, he didn’t sob, as I had done, but he did let out a wretched moan which morphed into a growl. Only then did I lower my hands. His tiger form was huge. He padded over and stared down at me. His incisors were easily as big as my head, and I realised that if he gave in completely to his animal side, he’d eat me up for breakfast. He turned his head to the side in a swift gesture, which I took as permission to go.

I scrambled up into the trees, my hands and feet deftly gripping the trunk. I paused and studied Isaac’s tiger form. Now that his teeth and claws were well away from me, it was easier to appreciate how stunning he was. He was long and sleek, with thick black stripes breaking up his rusty orange fur. He looked up at me, his pale green eyes searching mine. He had to be wondering why I’d stopped to stare at him. Did he know how beautiful he was?

I let out an excited screech and tore off through the foliage. My long tail provided balance as I scampered along branches and then leapt from one tree to the next. Isaac ran along beneath me—beautiful, powerful, and graceful. He easily kept pace with my aerial antics.

My tiny heart beat wildly, and I felt completely and utterly free. It was so much better than being stuck on the bus. But it had to come to an end.

We reached the edge of the wood. I clung on to a fine branch at the top of the final tree, staring at the farmhouse opposite. Far beneath me, Isaac let out a short, sharp chuff, drawing my attention to him. He gestured with his head again, telling me it was time to go back. I nodded to show that I’d understood and then leapt through the treetops, back the way we’d come, until I spied our clothes exactly where we’d left them.

I scurried down to mine. I shifted back and got dressed just before Isaac caught up with me. Given how easily he’d kept up before, I decided he’d let me get ahead this time so I could get into my clothes without having him as an audience. He sat on his haunches and gave me a look that might have meant he wanted to eat me for dinner. I gulped and backed away a little. I was nowhere near as fearless in my human form as when I was a monkey.

 

About the Author  

Colette’s personal love story began at university, where she met her future husband. An evening of flirting, in the shadow of Lancaster castle, eventually led to a fairytale wedding. She’s enjoying her own ‘happy ever after’ in the north of England with her husband, two beautiful children and her writing.  

Social Media Links

Blog/Website  |   Facebook Page   |  Facebook Group: Colette’s Cosy Corner

BookBub   |   Twitter    |   Goodreads  |  Instagram: @colettedavison

  Mailing List  |   Newsletter Sign-Up

 

 

 

Giveaway 

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a $40 Amazon Gift Card

a Rafflecopter giveaway

 

 

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Birthday Presents by Dianne Hartsock

Author Dianne Hartsock and IndiGo Marketing returns to the blog with a new release blitz for Birthday Presents! Like thrillers? Check out today's stop and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway!

Title: Birthday Presents

Author: Dianne Hartsock

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/08/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 47500

Genre: Horror/Thriller, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, suspense, crime, serial killer, law enforcement, kidnapping

Add to Goodreads

Description

Crimson loves to dance. He adores watching the pretty boys grind to the frantic beat of the music and picking out his lover for the evening. But more than that, he lives for his birthday, that one day a year he gives into his darker impulses: choosing a young man to lure into the alleyway with promises of sex, then slitting his throat in the midst of their passion and reveling in the hot blood on his hands.

For Tracey Winston, life has become a nightmare. Kidnapped from a nightclub in Boulder, Colorado, brutalized and raped by Crimson, he’s held captive in a cabin in the Rocky Mountains along with sweet Kyle, a young man Crimson keeps chained to his bed and is slowly torturing to death. Though Tracey manages to escape with Kyle’s help, he has to leave Kyle behind in Crimson’s cruel hands.

Detective Gene Mallory has never stopped looking for his brother Kyle, kidnapped from a nightclub seven months previously. The case breaks open when Tracey Winston comes forth at the urging of his new boyfriend, claiming to have knowledge of where Crimson is hiding out. A manhunt begins with Crimson continuously slipping through their net. Lives are on the line, with both Gene and Tracey being targeted by the killer. A traitor in their midst tips Crimson off to their plans.

Crimson’s birthday has come and gone, and he will kill again.

Excerpt

Birthday Presents
Dianne Hartsock © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Prologue
Excitement plucked at Crimson’s nerves, and he licked his lips, his blood surging to the merciless drumbeat. He rolled his hips to the music, an old White Zombie album, the static only adding to the nostalgia. Raising his arms, he pictured the hot body he’d grind against at the club that night, young, slim, rounded ass snug against him. Maybe he’d get his hands under his shirt, a finger in the guy’s pants stroking the wet tip of his cock.

He imagined the breathy moans in the dark alley afterward. The scared whimpers, screams muffled by Crimson’s hand clamped over the gorgeous lips he’d ravaged of their sweetness moments before. He felt the hard knife in his hand and shuddered, envisioning the hot blood pumping over his skin when he slit the vulnerable throat. Fuck, he loved his birthday!

Tossing the comb he’d run over his long hair onto the cluttered vanity, he then trailed fine-boned fingers over his chest and flat stomach. Pert nipples ached to be teased. A secret smile slid over his black-painted lips as he cupped the bulge in his tight jeans. What boy could resist this?

After adding a black tee shirt, he searched the dark eyes in the mirror, pursed his lips. Gloss? Definitely. He knew a certain bouncer at the club who was susceptible to Cherry Kiss. Well, that and Crimson’s mouth on his dick.

He narrowed his lids at the crescent moon scar under his left eye, temper flaring through him. Though healed, the skin was still an angry red. That bitch Tracey…

Crimson willed his hands to unclench. Nothing that a little concealer couldn’t make disappear. A thump sounded on the wall, and a frown marred the perfect features in the mirror. Kyle knew better than to disturb him while he was dressing. His face softened. Kyle. His little gem. How long had they been together? Six months?

The eyes in his reflection widened. That would make Kyle twenty. He’d forgotten they shared a birthday.

“Crimson’s coming, angel,” he murmured and grinned viciously at the name, blood and pain and death. He’d used other aliases in the past, but this was by far his favorite.

With a last glance in the mirror, he left the room and crossed the hall, tapping on Kyle’s door before entering. Kyle lay in the middle of the bed, his pale skin decadent against the red silk sheets. His darling looked lonely. Of course he did, with Tracey’s side of the bed empty. How many times had he stood at the foot of the bed to watch them play together? Or join in, lost in the haze of sweat-slicked skin and hard cocks, lips and tongues and roving fingers, pain and ecstasy.

But yesterday Tracey had left them as if their time together meant nothing, betraying Crimson’s trust. He drew several deep breaths, letting the anger roll through him, then out in an exhale. Tracey was dead to him.

“Did you need me, sweetheart?” he asked as he lay down and gathered Kyle in his arms. His skin felt dry, soft, tight over a sparse skeleton. Crimson could break his bones if he held too tightly.

Kyle’s enormous light blue eyes swam with tears, bright with desperation. So lovely. “You’re leaving again?” he whispered, timid.

“We’ve discussed this. I always go out on my birthday.”

“But if something happens to you…”

“I suppose you’ll die of starvation. No, thirst.” Crimson laughed at the shiver that swept the emaciated body. “Nothing will happen to me. Promise.”

Crimson picked up Kyle’s shackled hand with its long chain bolted to the floor and kissed the palm. He stroked Kyle’s limp cock and watched with satisfaction as it thickened under his touch. “Would you like me to fuck you tonight?”

Kyle nodded, despair in his eyes. Crimson kissed his sweet lips, his heart moved. Kyle had been a wild thing during their first months together. Running his hands over the thin chest, he regretted the scars he’d had to put on the pale flesh before Kyle had broken. He twisted a pale nipple and grew hard at the gasp and shudder from his lover.

He leaned up on an elbow. There was no reason he couldn’t stay and play with Kyle before he left. His cock ached with the thought. No. Denied lust would add a delicious edge to the evening. But still…

Leaning across Kyle to the bedside table, he fingered the silver nipple clamps. His baby loved those. The plug? No, he wanted Kyle nice and tight when he got home. Cursing the time, he gave Kyle a last passionate kiss. “I’ll be home soon.”

Kyle rolled against him, wrapping him in skinny arms. “Don’t go. Stay with me. I’m afraid when you go.”

“Hush, baby. You won’t even know I’m gone.” He kissed Kyle’s damp eyes and licked his tears.

Crimson reluctantly left the bed. Kyle’s pleas tempted him, but he had something to take care of before he could wring pain and pleasure from his lover’s body. He whistled on the way downstairs, pulling on thin black gloves. Grabbing up his keys from the hook by the door, he then stepped into the afternoon sunshine and drew a deep breath of the warm, pine-scented air. It was a twenty-minute drive into town, which left plenty of time for shopping and a meal before the clubs opened. Perfect.

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Meet the Author

Dianne is the author of paranormal/suspense, fantasy adventure, m/m romance, the occasional thriller, and anything else that comes to mind. She lives in the beautiful Willamette Valley of Oregon with her incredibly patient husband, who puts up with the endless hours she spends hunched over the keyboard letting her characters play. She says Oregon’s raindrops are the perfect setting in which to write. There’s something about being cooped up in the house with a fire crackling on the hearth and a cup of hot coffee warming her hands, which kindles her imagination.

Currently, Dianne works as a floral designer in a locally-owned gift shop. Which is the perfect job for her. When not writing, she can express herself through the rich colors and textures of flowers and foliage.

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Business and the Beat by Kellum Jeffries

Join author Kellum Jeffries and IndiGo Marketing as they celebrate the release of rockstar romance, Business and the Beat! Read more and enter in the $10 NineStar Press credit giveaway! 

Title: Business and the Beat

Author: Kellum Jeffries

Publisher: NineStar Press

Release Date: 02/08/2021

Heat Level: 3 - Some Sex

Pairing: Male/Male

Length: 33800

Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, contemporary, gay, pan, rock star/musician, family issues, band shenanigans, slime attacks

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Description

Rutherford Fitzhugh, shy, repressed financial advisor, is happy to stay in his professional and personal rut. But his world gets shaken up when his new boss insists the firm take on more exciting clients and assigns Rutherford to Mak, the brilliant bassist and chief songwriter for the mega-popular rock band, Memo to Myself.

Mak Makana, extroverted prankster goofball, hasn’t had a serious or lengthy relationship in years. He learned early on in his band’s meteoric rise to fame that a lover he’d fallen hard for was more interested in his fame than him.

The sparks between the two men are immediate and intense, despite their disastrous first meeting when Rutherford walks into a gooey prank Mak meant for a bandmate. Rutherford discovers that Mak isn’t the spoiled, shallow rock star he expected, and Mak finds that Rutherford has a hidden artistic and quirky side. They can’t keep their hands off each other—even as they work to convince themselves it’s just a fling.

Rutherford’s never been able to please his conservative, traditional Virginian parents—or get them to accept his sexuality—and the sudden paparazzi attention brings their disapproval on full force. Mak’s got a supportive family back home in Hawaii and another one in his bandmates, neither batting an eye at his pansexuality. But that early experience with a fame-collector makes him wary of opening up to anyone who’s not birth family or band family.

Mak and Rutherford’s very different lives threaten to pull them apart, but could it be they’re different enough to be perfect together?

Excerpt

Business and the Beat
Kellum Jeffries © 2021
All Rights Reserved

Rutherford’s morning started off with a reassuring sameness—same boiled eggs for breakfast, same dogwalk around his neighborhood, same quick skim of the Financial Times during his morning Lyft ride—and there was absolutely no warning that by noon he’d be flustered, turned on, and temporarily dyed blue.

He arrived at work his usual half hour early. It was calm and quiet then, and he had a few peaceful moments to sit with his first cup of tea of the day and start looking through his portfolio of clients, making sure he’d checked in with each of them recently enough to keep them well informed and happy. (This was a tricky balance; some clients were annoyed by frequent contact, some enraged by any lengthy absence of contact, and, of course, there were a few who would find something to be peeved about regardless.)

Rutherford wrote up a schedule of check-in calls to make and started looking through the first client’s current investments, checking on the returns and pondering the fact that said client had a child reaching college age soon. Would tweaking her portfolio in light of that be advantageous? And just when he was settling into deep thought, doodling flowers on his legal pad as his brain ticked over possibilities, Hurricane Jen blew into the office.

He winced—he liked Jen, somewhat reluctantly, but she was loud.

“Heeeeeeeeeey you!” she bellowed, and he sighed as his mental train of morning productivity not only derailed but fell spectacularly off a cliff, hit bottom, and caught fire.

“Hello, Jen.”

He’d wondered, the first few times she greeted him with a “Hey you,” if she was being intentionally rude to him since she seemed to remember everyone else’s name. But when he’d reintroduced himself after several weeks of this, she’d wrinkled her nose and said, “I swear I know your name, I’m sorry, I just— It just doesn’t seem like you! It’s so stuffy! Sorry, I don’t mean to insult your name, you probably love your name, and it’s certainly elegant and everything, and argh, I’m a dick.”

He’d blinked at her, astonished she thought his name too stuffy for him—he was well aware most people thought of him as, well, stuffy. (He was also astonished she felt comfortable blurting “I’m a dick” by way of apology, but the boss’s daughter had certain prerogatives.)

“I, uh, I don’t love my name,” he’d said. “‘Hey you’ is…rather nice.” And since then, he’d been oddly fond of her.

Today, though, in addition to completely ruining his concentration, she was making him nervous. She didn’t come into the office all that often; she was in charge of schmoozing prospective clients, which kept her on the road a good deal. When she did come in, it tended to be for all-hands-on-deck things: staff trainings and the like. Rutherford snuck a look at his online calendar, but he knew before he checked there was nothing like that today. So why was she here?

“What brings you here today?” he asked, but she added to his worry by grinning and making a lock-turning gesture in front of her lips, then striding off to her dad’s office.

“Oh god,” Rutherford murmured to his computer screen. There’d been rumors flying around lately about the old man’s retirement. Rutherford had tried to discount them, but…he wasn’t so sure now.

MacKenzie from the next office stuck her head in his doorway, pointed the way Jen had gone, and did some frantic gestures he assumed were mime for “what is happening?” He shrugged, and she frowned and popped back out again.

He slid down in his chair, put his hands over his face, and whispered, “I hate change” into the dark of his palms.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, an “Everyone to the meeting room” alert popped up on the office IM.

Rutherford grabbed a pad and pen and headed for the hallway; bad news was always a bit more palatable when he had some paper to cling to. He met MacKenzie on the way, leaned down, and murmured, “Two pencils,” in her ear.

“Crap, thanks,” she said and grabbed the pencils out of her short Afro. Sometimes by the end of the day, she had five or six.

They reached the meeting room and grabbed seats. And once everyone had filed in, Jen patted her dad’s shoulder and said, “Don’t leave ’em hanging,” and Rutherford barely managed not to groan aloud.

Mr. Wozniak stood up, said, “Yep, I’m retiring. Nope, we’re not letting anybody go. Yep, I am going to do a shitload of fly-fishing,” and sat down.

As bosses went, he’d always been admirably succinct.

The room was silent for a moment, awkwardly so—what did one say in response to that? And then Jen stood up and talked about how her father had founded the firm on the principles of emphasizing ethics, hiring the best people, and treating them very well. How their employee retention rate (“and our long tradition of not getting caught up in hideous scandals!”) proved these principles worked, and how she planned to continue on the same path.

Oh, good, it was going to be Jen. Rutherford had worried the firm would be sold. Jen, while noisy, was at least familiar and liked.

He’d begun to relax a little when Jen’s speech took a turn.

“While most of you will keep your same client load, I do plan to shake things up a bit. I’m planning to start pitching clients in the entertainment industry—we’ve got a longstanding industry halo for ethical business, let’s add a little buzz as well.”

That certainly got a buzz going in the room at least, but she held up a hand. “I’ll share details with those of y’all who are gonna be involved. Meanwhile, let’s start planning a massive retirement party.”

Rutherford tuned out for the rest of the talk, sketching tiny birds in the margins of his legal pad while he mulled over what this might mean for him. He had every intention of staying. Surely, his job wouldn’t change significantly since there was zero reason for Jen to drag him, of all people, into the new “entertainment industry” focus. However, someone his own age taking over the company would certainly send his parents into another “We can’t believe you’re happy with this career…plateau” rant.

He sighed and then startled, realizing only when Jen’s hand landed lightly on his shoulder that people were starting to clear out of the room.

“Hey, you,” she said, grinned, and patted his shoulder. “Let’s talk.”

Oh no.

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Meet the Author

Kellum Jeffries is a bisexual Southern librarian, lucky enough to have a supportive fellow-writer partner and a fabulous dog. She knits socks, gives excellent shoulder rubs, and can touch her nose with her tongue. She loves to write about all kinds of people finding themselves, finding love, and finding the nearest Waffle House.

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Release Blitz: The Prodigal Prince’s Fake Fiance by Thursday Euclid & Clancy Nacht

Authors Thursday Euclid and Clancy Nacht, along with Gay Book Promotions, visit with The Prodigal Prince’s Fake Fiance release blitz! Check out more today!

RELEASE BLITZ

Book Title: The Prodigal Prince’s Fake Fiance

Authors: Thursday Euclid & Clancy Nacht

Publisher: Eine Kleine Press

Cover Artist: Clancy Nacht

Release Date: February 9, 2021

Genre/s: Contemporary M/M Romance, trans man romance, m/m trans #ownvoices

Trope/s: Secret Royal with a Fake Relationship, Stranded with Only One Bed, a Fling in Europe leading to Unrequited Love and a Second Chance, and ultimately a Return to Hometown for a Playboy Prince as True Love mends a Fractured Family

Themes: found family, claiming identity

Heat Rating:  4 out of 5 flames     

Length: 73 000 words/182 pages

It is a standalone story.

 

Buy Links - Available on Kindle Unlimited

Amazon US   |  Amazon UK 

 

Will a trans prince’s fake engagement end in love?

Blurb

His Royal Highness Morgan Schuyler, an aggressively toppy trans man, wants nerdy Lin Callahan the moment he sees him. When a hurricane in the Atlantic grounds their flight, Morgan seizes the opportunity to share a hotel suite with his petite, cis lust object. Their torrid fling ends with the flight to New York City, but a coffee shop run-in reveals they’re attending the same posh fine arts grad school.

While they’re both still daydreaming about that weekend together, neither will admit it. Feelings are awkward, and Morgan refuses to have them for anyone but his childhood best friend, Carmen. As for Lin...his ex-boyfriend has moved cross-country in an attempt to rekindle a romance that doesn't hit the same since that weekend in France.

When Morgan’s forced to choose between an arranged marriage and presenting his parents with a fake fiancé, he’ll need to navigate his attraction to Lin without catching feelings. How is it possible to want someone so much and yet be so terrified of their emotional intimacy? Maybe that's why Morgan still hasn't told Lin he's royalty...

This 73k contemporary m/m trans #ownvoices romance combines perennial favorite tropes such as the Secret Royal with a Fake Relationship, Stranded with Only One Bed, a Fling in Europe leading to Unrequited Love and a Second Chance, and ultimately a Return to Hometown for a Playboy Prince as True Love mends a Fractured Family.



Excerpt

As it turned out, though, his row mate wasn’t in the bathroom but with the pilot, and when he emerged, Morgan couldn’t help staring.

On the shorter side of average, certainly. Shorter than Morgan. Straight, sandy hair worn long, curling up where it met his button-down collar. Surprisingly fashionable though, really, even if it was super cazh. Skinny jeans, chukkas, the button-down layered over a graphic tee Morgan couldn’t quite make out between the open plackets. His puppyish brown eyes crinkled deeply at the corners in the most precious possible way.

When he caught Morgan staring, he blushed. Actually blushed. And hid behind the messenger bag he carried crossbody but cradled like a baby, as if he was too awkward to cope with being eye-fucked.

God, Morgan wanted to eat him alive. He squeezed his thighs together and willed himself to stay cool, but he was already getting hard. Biting his lip, he inhaled sharply through his nostrils and turned his attention toward the window to look out at the boring expanse of tarmac.

He’d been in Lidonia too long. Months. No parties, no cutting loose, no hookups. Now Morgan was sitting next to this delicious dork for seven hours, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about the throbbing ache inside him.

He needed a fuck. Just…so badly.

And a drink.

Where were the cabin crew? There should’ve been four attendants waiting on them. Could they really all be in the galley?

As Delicious Dork fidgeted at the corner of Morgan’s vision, he turned his head fully, looked up at where DD still hadn’t sat down, and asked, “Is something going on in the cockpit, or were you just visiting?”

“Oh, um…” DD wrapped one hand around the strap of his bag. The other pushed his hair behind his ear as he looked back toward the cockpit. “Well, it’s um, the flight’s not going to happen. There’s an…um…weather event in the Atlantic, so nowhere to land.”

DD looked up and around, then toward the back of the plane. “I was going to grab my bag and um… figure something out.”

He appeared strangely guilty, as if the weather event was his fault, which, okay. Maybe he was Catholic? Morgan could relate.

Then DD abruptly headed to the baggage compartment.

A moment later, the pilot’s voice crackled over the speakers. “Hurricane Eileen has grown to a category five in the mid-Atlantic. She’s scheduled to make landfall in New York in the next day or so, and until that resolves, it’s just not safe for us to continue our scheduled flight. My apologies. It’s an act of God, as I’m certain you understand. You all have the JetShare app, and we’ll send a push notification when our flight is rescheduled. It may be tomorrow, but considering the potential weather ramifications of Eileen on New York City, it may be a couple of days. Stay tuned. We’re taxiing back to the terminal now, where the cabin crew will help you with your baggage so you may disembark and enjoy sunny Nice a little longer. Thanks for flying with us.”

The other passengers groaned and grumbled amongst themselves. Morgan wasn’t thrilled either.

Then DD returned, rolling his bag behind him, and took his seat as the jet taxied from the runway back to the private terminal. His face was turned away toward the window as he talked on the phone, making arrangements for somewhere to stay.

Capital idea, really, and several steps ahead of everyone else on the jet.

Morgan produced his own phone and then floundered. Who should he call? Where would he stay? No way was he going back to Lidonia. It was a short trip, but… no.

Besides, the weather might clear up tomorrow, and he’d have to extricate himself from the familial grasp all over again. No, thank you.

So somewhere local to NCE. Sure, that’d be easy. Nice had a zillion suitable hotels…

Which a quick peek at Morgan’s travel guide app informed him were entirely booked. Like, booked solid. Because of some goddamned festival, combined with peak tourism season, which…

Morgan understood. The Côte d'Azur was gorgeous, and of course people flocked here from all over the world. It was almost as beautiful as Lidonia—not that Morgan was biased—but far more accessible to the average traveler.

Out of bloody-minded curiosity, Morgan changed his app settings to show three-star hotels. Still nothing.

Despairing, he removed the restrictions.

A few shady looking establishments appeared to have rooms, but Morgan couldn’t bring himself to stay somewhere like that. He liked living the ordinary life, but he wasn’t certain it was safe for someone of his particular needs to stay overnight somewhere with such limited security.

His parents would, frankly, demand he come home and never leave again if they found out. Which they might well do, considering establishments like that weren’t known for discretion with their celebrity clientele.

While Morgan had managed to stay out of the public eye thanks to living in the States—and the tireless efforts of the palace PR professionals—sometimes people still recognized him. He hadn’t changed his name, after all, and while most people never put it together, this close to his native soil….

Well.

Goddamn it.

He just couldn’t risk it. It would destroy him if it got out, squelch any hope of blessed anonymity. His Serene Highness Rodolfo would recall him to the Lidonian court, and that would be it for Morgan’s private life. From there on out, he’d be a pawn of the Principality.

As the jet came to a halt, DD unbuckled and started to slip from Morgan’s metaphorical grasp, and that was just not going to happen. If he had a room…

Well.

Morgan’s groin tightened pleasantly. They could certainly make use of a room together.

Rushing to follow, Morgan fell into step behind DD and placed a light hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Hello, Delicious. Listen, is there any chance you could wait for me to get my luggage? I’d like to talk to you for a moment before we part ways.”

“Oh, um…” DD looked panicked “Yeah. Listen, I’m really sorry about the flight. Just, fuel’s really, you know, it can only hold what it can hold, and diverting is a nightmare. Safer to, um, you know...”

The business set shot DD dirty looks as they passed by. He stepped aside and took a seat, as much of an answer as Morgan was likely to get.

Cabin crew stood at the doorway to storage, matching luggage with annoyed passengers, apologizing as if it was their fault.

Morgan claimed his vintage trunk and turned to face DD. They were the last passengers on board. “I wasn’t blaming you for the flight being delayed. Perish. No, rather, I was curious about your accommodations. It sounds as if you already secured a room, and I am, sadly, without such.”

Approaching Delicious with a wicked little smile, Morgan raised a brow. “Think you could help me?”

About the Authors 

Together, Texans and platonic life partners Thursday Euclid and Clancy Nacht write queer novels that span genres, with intense romances and a seamless shared narrative voice.

They published their first co-written novel, the m/m rock star romance Black Gold, in 2010, and now have over a decade of award-winning collaborations under their exquisite belts. Recent titles include the twisted romance His Fake Prison Daddy and the Phisher King series, in which an uptight federal agent and a bratty hacker go from enemies to lovers while solving a hate crime.

Though Elder Millennial trans man Thursday and Gen X gender outlaw Clancy live three hours apart, they are inseparable. Their friendship is a perfect example of the Grumpy/Sunshine trope, which makes Thursday very happy. Clancy thinks it’s all right.

 

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Release Blitz + Giveaway: Venetian Valentine by Kristian Parker

Author Kristian Parker and Pride Publishing celebrate the release of Venetian Valentine! Get into the Valentine's day mood with contemporary romance! Enter in the giveaway for a chance to win: a fabulous gift package and a $5.00 First for Romance Gift Card!

Venetian Valentine Kristian Parker

General Release Date: 9th February 2021

Word Count: 30,154
Book Length: SHORT NOVEL
Pages: 125
Genres: ACTION AND ADVENTURE, CONTEMPORARY, EROTIC ROMANCE, GAY, GLBTQI, VALENTINES

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Book Description

Venice at Valentine’s? Andrew didn’t bargain on outrunning the Mafia, fighting for his life…or meeting Sergio.

Post break-up Andrew, in Venice for Valentine’s Day, isn’t alone and pining for very long before handsome local Sergio sweeps him off his feet—and into his gondola.

What should have been the most romantic evening of Andrew’s life turns into the deadliest when a dying policewoman they rush to help slips them a vital piece of evidence…and they’re accused of shooting her.

With both the Mafia and corrupt cops in hot pursuit, Andrew and Sergio must deliver the evidence to the only man who can clear their name. The only problem is he lives at the other end of Italy, which sends them on the most action-packed Valentine’s date ever.

It’s going to take some serious Valentine’s magic for the shy Englishman and the sexy gondolier to have a second date, never mind a chance at a relationship…

Reader advisory: This book contains scenes of mild peril, injury, and a gun battle.

Excerpt

“Pronto, vuoi un passaggio?”

Not even in Venice yet and already asked if I wanted a ride.

I nodded and stepped onto the water taxi. Yes, there were cheaper options, but this being my first trip to the famous island, I wanted to arrive in style.

The crisp February air hit me as we got out onto the water. Even so, I had no intention of sheltering inside the wooden boat. I hadn’t paid a ridiculous amount of money to miss everything below deck.

Then I saw it. Venice.

It took my breath away. Beautiful pastel-coloured buildings lined the coastline with the iconic St Mark’s Campanile dominating the skyline behind. Butterflies filled my stomach as we sped towards our destination. So much history calling to me to discover it.

Whatever the driver hollered to me, I couldn’t hear above the wind in my ears. I wouldn’t have taken it in anyway, not when the island looming larger in front of me had all my attention.

Soon it stretched out and filled my eyeline. Details became clearer. The shoreline was busy with traders and visitors and all manner of people. A market selling the usual rubbish was an irresistible call to the tourists. Huge boats tugged gently against their moorings outside big houses. What a life to live in one of those. In this world of water, I couldn’t have been further away from the crowded London streets I was used to.

We pulled up to a jetty and excitement built inside me.

“Come ti piace Venice?” asked the driver, spreading his arms wide like an orchestra conductor.

“Bella.” Yes, I thought Venice beautiful, all right.

Safe on terra firma and more than ready to dive into this city, I paused at the edge of a group of people congregating on a bridge having their picture taken. They dispersed to reveal the Bridge of Sighs.

I gawked. This had been high on Matt’s sightseeing list when we’d planned the trip. But he only had himself—and his wandering hands—to blame for missing out.

I snapped out of it. The bridge before me had seen worse heartbreak than mine—they’d named it the Bridge of Sighs as convicts would get their last view of Venice before succumbing to their gruesome fate in the dungeons down below, and they would sigh.

I stood staring, absolutely transfixed. I’d only been here for five minutes, but I could understand why those sighs would be filled with such loss.

Things got even better when I got my first glimpse of a gondolier, expertly steering his craft through the city and under the bridge. I’d been dismissive of the gondolas and their high prices, but now I saw one drifting through the canals, it tempted me. Would I feel like a bit of a loser taking one on my own?

This city could be full of possibilities for me and I refused to dwell on being alone for this trip. Lots of people travelled solo and now I’d joined their ranks.

I took a selfie with the bridge in the background and sent it to my friend, Jodie.

Here safe and sound. Speak soon x.

Almost immediately I got a reply.

Go get ’em, tiger.

My phone told me my hotel lay on the other side of St Mark’s Square. All my life, I had yearned to stroll across one of the most famous squares in the world. Taking a deep breath and channelling my inner chic Italian, I set off to discover what Venice had in store for me.

Just my luck, the biggest rain shower I’ve ever encountered ruined my picture-postcard arrival. Huge dollops of rain bounced off those iconic cobbles as I dragged my case across them, making it spin out of control. In the end, I just picked it up and made a run for it. Being a lanky six foot two, it was hard for me to run stylishly, and so I ran full pelt. My painstakingly styled blond spikes were flopping with all the water, the hair gel running into my eyes and making them sting.

I must have looked like a drowned rat by the time I burst through the unassuming doors of the Hotel Buon Sonno, which caused much amusement for the achingly handsome receptionist who greeted me. I ignored his smirk as I dripped on the marble floor, although I did feel like the least glamourous person in Venice.

He seemed to take an age to check me in and the elevator had to be as old as the city itself as it slowly dragged me to my floor. Finally, I made it to my room and what a treat lay before me. It had a big bed and chaise-longue to the side, causing my inner chic Italian to perk up again. I could imagine myself lazing on there after a hard day’s shopping.

I unpacked, stashing my money and important stuff in the safe. Jodie had told me about the pickpockets of Venice to the point of paranoia. After that I had a long scrub in the huge walk-in shower to wash the journey away. The monsoon jets soon brought me back to life.

I lay on the bed in my bathrobe, flicking through the guidebook, when my stomach growled as though a bear had woken up in there. Would anywhere be doing meals this early? Well, time to hit the streets of Venice to find out. Go get ’em, tiger.

I threw on some clothes and headed out to see what this place had to offer. This time I took my umbrella.

Hopefully looking a little more presentable, I smiled at the receptionist as I passed him. I might not have been on the romantic getaway I’d hoped for, but why should that stop me having a little—or a lot—of fun? He didn’t return the smile. I supposed with him having seen me at my worst, my best wasn’t likely to impress him.

Opposite the hotel sat a kind of gondola park. The boats jostled together, awaiting their turn. So did the gondoliers, who laughed and joked to pass the time until their next customer appeared. It might have been February, but that meant Carnival week as well as the romantic epicentre of the year. Plenty of people queued up to pay their extortionate prices. Still tempted to take a ride, I watched a few set off, bearing smiling passengers. My hunger won out this time—my ride could wait for another day.

I had only just set off in the direction where I thought I’d seen a few restaurants from my window when, suddenly, a gondolier jumped in front of me. He looked so handsome in his standard striped T-shirt and straw hat set at a jaunty angle. He took his hat off and bowed in a ridiculously dramatic fashion. As someone who is easily flustered, I could feel my face going bright red.

“Well, hello there, stranger. My name is Sergio, the best gondolier in this whole city.”

All the other gondoliers were laughing and nudging one another…which didn’t help my out-of-control blushes.

“H-hello,” I stammered.

“Ah, he is English! I knew it. I said to my friends, here comes a member of the English aristocracy.”

I might have been named after Prince Andrew, but the similarities ended there. An auntie had traced our family tree once upon a time and found nothing but mill workers and servants. But in Venice, I could be whoever I wanted to be.

“And you were right,” I said in my poshest voice. “My grandmother, the Queen of England, told me Venice is the only place to be on Valentine’s Day.”

He threw his head back and laughed. I had never seen someone so jaw-droppingly perfect, from his shiny eyes to his perfectly groomed stubble to his strong arms which held the railing as he leaned backward. I didn’t dare look any lower.

“Then surely you wish to experience everything Venice has to offer?”

“Of course I do. But I’ve only just arrived. I want to sample some food first.”

He winked. “Sergio will help. There is a beautiful pasta place just around the corner. Tell them I sent you.”

“Oh yes? Will I get a discount?”

“No, but I will next time I am in.”

With that, he laughed his infectious laugh and went back to join his fellow boatmen. I watched him go. God bless the gondoliers in their tight black trousers. What a view.

I decided to take his recommendation. I didn’t fancy spending the evening going from restaurant to restaurant, trying to decide where to eat.

It paid off. The pasta tasted amazing. The sauce, a local delicacy made with three types of tomato, went perfectly with the white wine they brought me. My table overlooked the Grand Canal, the feature of so many paintings. As evening fell, the restaurants lining the banks turned on strings of bulbs entwined around their awnings, giving it a magical feel. They reflected in the water and cast a dappling light on the grand Rialto Bridge.

I had truly arrived in Venice. I caught myself checking every gondola for Sergio, which bugged me. The first man to pay me a bit of attention, and I fall hook, line and sinker. Thankfully, he didn’t make an appearance. I wanted my first night in Venice to be for me and not side-tracked by some man…no matter what lay beneath those tight trousers.

On the way back to the hotel, I had a couple of drinks in a bar. As I curled up in a black wingback chair and sipped my smooth red wine, I looked at my fellow patrons. Carnival fever dominated the bar, with many people in masks and outrageous outfits. A couple in front of me were intertwined, her hanging off his every word and laughing. Tiredness overcame me. It had been stressful travelling on my own for the first time. Draining my glass, I decided an early night could be excused.

The heavens opened again as I wandered back to my hotel. The gondolas had called it a night when I got there and there was no sign of Sergio. It would have been nice to share the big bed with someone, instead of missing Matt. I fell asleep reciting the reasons why I had split up with him.

It made for a scarily long list.

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About the Author

Kristian Parker

I have written for as long as I could write. In fact, before, when I would dictate to my auntie. I love to read, and I love to create worlds and characters. I live in the English countryside. When I’m not writing, I like to get out there and think through the next scenario I’m going to throw my characters into. Inspiration can be found anywhere, on a train, in a restaurant or in an office. I am always in search of the next character to find love in one of my stories. In a world of apps and online dating, it is important to remember love can be found when you least expect it. Follow Kristian on Facebook.

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KRISTIAN PARKER IS GIVING AWAY THIS FABULOUS PRIZE TO ONE LUCKY WINNER. ENTER HERE FOR YOUR CHANCE TO WIN A LOVELY GIFT PACKAGE AND GRAB YOUR FIRST FOR ROMANCE GIFT CARD! Notice: This competition ends on 23rd February 2021 at 5pm GMT. Competition hosted by Totally Entwined Group.